


There's Ruin at The Door.

by Pilocene_Alt



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: :'), Adultery, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Inspired by Natasha Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812, Love Triangles, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, aka Lokane, generally creepy behavior, if you don't know what I'm talking about that's okay you don't need to, this is mostly an excuse to write my guilty pleasure ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 17:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19024153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilocene_Alt/pseuds/Pilocene_Alt
Summary: Jane is young, Loki is hot, and Thor isn't here.~~~"I am Loki."Any feelings of charmed warmth were immediately replaced by icy horror."Prince Loki... Brother to Thor?""Only in name."





	There's Ruin at The Door.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not expecting this fic to get much traction so thank you for giving this a read! Means a lot. If you end up liking this very specific story don't hesitate to tell me what you think!

"I hate parties."

"It's a formality, Jane."

"I know, but why do I-"

"Because _you're_ the one marrying into the family," Erik sighed. "Thor's father dislikes you and the queen tells me his brother seems indifferent. If you could turn at least one of them over to your side we should be able to join the family without much disagreement."

Jane groaned. She loathed these 'formalities' as Erik put them. The dress she stood wearing was far too frivolous, and the unneeded filagree was scratching upon her skin with a fury, leaving behind angry red marks. She could hardly breathe with such a tight corset wrapped around her middle. It was a ball. Of course, she had to be invited to a ball. Under normal circumstances, she would have most likely declined any summons to such a deplorable thing, however... "Erik, this is hopeless. I've never even met Prince Loki, and as you said, the king hates me. I'm going to make a fool of myself without Thor here."

Erik smiled and griped her shoulder. it was a familiar and comforting gesture, something he has done many times before in reassurance. "Jane, you are a determined and impassioned young lady; this will be over before you know it. Queen Frigga loves you, so we at least have that. Try and rub elbows with the rest of the family if you can tonight." He suddenly pulled her into a hug. "I just want to let you know, that even if you don't end up marrying Thor, I am still so proud of you. I couldn't ask for a better niece."

Jane pulled away from the embrace with a timid simper. "Thank you, Erik. I'll try not to let you down."

He shook his head. "You never could."

~~~

"I will not tolerate that harlot-"

"-Odin, please, she's a young lady."

"She's foolish and vain. She'll be a poor influence upon our son."

"You didn't feel that way about Duchess Sif."

" _Sif_ challenged tradition without resulting to deviancy. Countess Jeanne would rather-"

Frigga sharply exhaled. "Dear husband. Please try and make peace with your animosity. Lady Jeanne will be a part of our family soon and I will not have you insulting a relative- look, there she is now. _Be amenable._ "

Jane was easy to spot. Her dress was a sparkly deep maroon, contrasting sharply to the royal blues and purples of other guests. Her neck was bare and arms exposed, with immaculately curled hair cascading down her shoulders. She was easily the most beautiful there.

Odin scowled. "As I said. Frivolous and vain."

Jane spotted Frigga and smiled. It was certainly courteous enough, but with just a closer look you could see- her lips were too firmly pressed together; eyes the near reflection of a grimace. Regardless of her apparent unease, Jane approached them when beckoned.

"Queen Frigga... King Odin."

"Countess," Odin huffed. Frigga threw him a disapproving look.

"Lady Jeanne. You look lovely tonight, thank you for coming."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. I'd hate to disappoint my future inlaws."

Odin glowered. "Yes, well- the betrothal has yet to be set in stone. There's still time for a change and what, especially with Thor away."

Jane's smile tightened. "Well, I certainly hope nothing will."

" _Nor I_ ," Figga interjected. Her words hold an edge of warning.

A tense moment passed. The air was heavy; thick with cumbersome feelings and words left unspoken. The cheers and joyous cries coming from the crowd did nothing to alleviate the suffocating pressure.

Jane swallowed. "If I may take my leave..."

"Of course, Countess." Frigga smiled. "It was good to speak with you. I'm sure you and my son will be a lovely couple."

"Thank you, my lady." She turned towards Odin. "My king." And walked away without any further words.

When the Royals were out of hearing distance, she let out a shaky exhale- a breath she'd been holding since their conversation began. _What a dreadful man... Having the gall to insinuate such a thing._

There were too many people. The ballroom was cramped, and the sound of blithe patrons felt overwhelmingly _loud_. Her eyes land on the balcony doors and she doesn't stop walking until she reaches them. The feeling of cold air hitting her face was relief as she'd never experienced before. There were only a few others outside accompanying her- though they seemed to be more there for privacy with another rather than a respite from the party.

All except one. One who, almost immediately, drew her attention. He was tall and lean, dressed in a finely tailored suit that near perfectly lined his form. He had a virescent ascot scarf tucked into the front of his collar. She immediately freezes when they make eye contact. His _eyes._ They were such a deep, piercing green; so sharp they seemed to see right through her. She feels her breath catch in her throat.

He gives her a curious look. "You are not accompanied by another..." His voice is not dissimilar to his appearance. It's dark and smooth, articulated by the way he speaks slowly; deliberately. She's immediately rapt by every word. "Do you not like the festivities?"

Jane blanked. For a second she forgets how to talk, and it takes a moment for the fuzziness clouding her brain to catch up with the situation. She feels her mouth go dry. "No, not really," she admitted. "I've never been one for parties of any form. Unfortunately, this one is for me... And, well, it would have been a great insult to not attend."

Something flashed briefly in his eyes. "You don't happen to be Countess Jeanne Fustier, do you?"

"Please, call me Jane. I'm more English than French, yet of course, mother insisted upon a _traditional_ name." She froze. "Not that I am one to scorn tradition..."

He smiled. "I am not overly fond of tradition, either, Lady Jane."

"It has merits, just... not when it begins interfering with how I want to live."

He nodded. "I understand that. Do you feel tradition meddles in your life often?"

Jane huffed in exasperation. " _Yes!_ Everyone is always expecting me to do specific things based upon it! Act this way in public; speak this way to your inlaws; wear your mothers dress to some godforsaken party and receive nothing but disdain from others for being a wench! I'm absolutely tired of it..." She sighed. "I lied. I am one to scorn tradition."

The stranger's expression turned aghast. Jane tensed. Oh gods, did she go too far? Why would you say something like that- he's a man- you're expected to act proper and complicit! Don't question the societal norms, don't speak out of turn, don't-

"You receive disdain? If you will allow me to say, Lady Jane, you are the most beautiful woman here tonight."

Jane stiffened. That was most certainly not what she was expecting. With a moment of pause, she realized something: She didn't sense that barrier of modesty from him that she's always felt with men. Instead of expressing her gratitude at his lack of outrage like she inwardly wanted to do, she just laughs bitterly. It's an acidic thing, full of contempt and loathing. "You don't think me vain for beauty?"

He shook his head. "Others, mayhaps- but not you. You are much more than beauty, Lady Jane."

She ignored the feeling of heat traveling up to her cheeks. _It_ _was just a compliment, such a reaction is unwarranted... So why did his words feel like more?_

"Whom am I beautiful to? I never received this charming man's name."

He seemed to grow nervous. For the first time since the start of their conversation, he broke eye contact, suddenly far more interested in the golden cufflinks on his wrist. The reaction confused her. What reason would he have to be anxious about sharing his name?

He inhaled- and it takes a moment- but eventually, he looks at her once more with those sharp green eyes. When he speaks, his voice lacks the previous smoothness.

"I am Loki."

Any feelings of charmed warmth were immediately replaced by icy horror.

"Prince Loki... Brother to Thor?"

"Only in name."

The horror increases. "You were flirting with me-"

"-I was doing no such thing-"

"And you _know_ that I'm betrothed. To your brother, no less!"

"You seemed perfectly content to take my attention."

"I interpreted that as casual teasing among guests! And then you have the gall to pretend-"

"-Then you would have preferred some stranger make advances upon you?"

"So you admit you were making advances!"

"Calm yourself, woman! I was being sincere! Interpret my words how you will- it matters not- be it as the lady I thought you were or the harlot everyone believes you to be."

The rage Jane felt in that moment was like fire in her veins. "You dare to make me sound at fault for this? Me? whilst you- ever the philanderer- knew who I was and continued advances in my ignorance!"

Loki smirks. It was a cruel and cynical sneer, holding a bitting edge of mockery that could cut the most well-put-together personage. "I don't doubt for a moment that, based on your reputation, if our conversation continued the way it was, I could have had you in bed with your legs spread for me within the next thirty minutes."

Jane abruptly inhales through her teeth and pulls her hand back. She swings forward- but before she can make contact with the side of his face, her arm is suddenly halted, and there is an intense pressure on her wrist.

His voice was deadly cold when he spoke. "Do not." He said. "Touch me."

She attempted to pull her hand back but his grip was firm- only growing tighter as she continued to struggle. _Like a snake,_ she absently thought. She feels nails beginning to dig into her skin before he suddenly releases her and she takes a few steps back in surprise. She looks down to her wrist and already sees an angry purple bruise forming, occasionally dotted with deep red indents from where skin was torn away.

This was the man of whom had roused such terrible feelings?

Jane looked up at Loki with a carefully guarded expression. She attempted to appear defiant and aloof, but there was the undeniable lacing of fear in her eyes- though try to quell it she may. Loki's face, however, was carefully removed and blank. It gave away nothing despite her best efforts to see what was underneath. They didn't move for a moment as both sized up the other. Jane would not be the first to speak.

Just as it seemed the tension would come to fold, Loki suddenly turned his eyes away from her and- to her immediate surprise- _laughed_. It was something hollow and bitter; intentionally grating on the ears to all who heard it. Jane's expression morphed into exasperation.

"Do you find something _funny-_ " She didn't mean to speak first.

His laughter suddenly halts. "-Oh yes _of course,_  Countess Jeanne Fustier," He said sharply. "For- despite how imperative it seems to be with recent events- _you forget who you are speaking to._ "

She whitened.

"Ah, so it truly did slip your mind then? Well, perhaps I should give you a reminder." He took two long and measured steps towards her and Jane felt her breath catch in her throat. When he spoke, his voice was level and dark- clear with a point of warning. "I am Loki Odinson; low prince of Asgard and brother to Thor Odinson; high prince and your _fiancee._ Lest you disregard this fact, do remember that my family is currently on the edge of rejecting or embracing you into our house. I am the weight that will tip that scale. I do recommend being courteous."

_What a truly awful, terrible disgrace of a man you are._ "Be you so petty as to disrupt your brother's marriage due to my words?" _Wretched, appalling snake._

He chuckled. "I have done much worse over lesser slights."

Jane felt her fists begin trembling. She clenched them in hopes of alleviating the tremors to little success. There was a slew of emotions running through her simultaneously: Fury, revulsion, contempt; and perhaps most prominently- though she would much like to deny it- _dread_. A sickening oily dread that settled itself within her stomach and burned at her insides.

"I believe I will be returning to the party now. Have a good night, Prince Loki."

He smiles. "You as well, Countess Jeanne."

She could feel his eyes on her back until she left.

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly a side-project so I don't think updates will be super consistent. 
> 
> In the meantime, you can follow me on Tumblr at my main blog @Pilocene or my Marvel side; @Ladyyellingatmarvel


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